Invader Gaz
by EtherealMutation
Summary: When Iggins makes disparaging remarks on national TV, Gaz vows to destroy him. However, without a clear plan, she decides to buy a Game Slave 3000 instead. Pity the last one sold to Zim...


**Author's Note: ****I'm releasing the non-derivative elements of this story into the public domain. Do what you wish.**_  
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_IGGINS! A voice for a new generation!_

_NASAPLACE, in cooperation with Poop Cola and the PresidentMan Administration, is proud to announce the new pilot for the Mars Recovery Project! When we created the Planetary Lasso, we knew we couldn't trust just any old pilot. Lieutenant Pilotguy might have thirty years experience and 1600 logged flight hours, but when we found out he never beat the final boss of Great Space Trucker, we knew we couldn't keep him on board. So we started our search amongst the ones with the best hand-eye coordination that can defeat Darth Swineous on expert mode and after many long months, we found our pilot in the greatest gamer ever, Iggins!_

"Does my hair look okay?" asks a grey haired reporter standing next to an ugly young boy in a flight suit, "Alright. I'm here with none other than _Iggins_, gamer extraordinaire and pilot for the Planetary Lasso. At only ten years old, you're now officially the youngest trained astronaut! How do you feel?"

"_Well_, Mr. _Reporter_," Iggins says, his eyes randomly twitching and bugging out, "I feel _like_ that _time_ I **destroyed** Dr. _Von_ Bovienstein on my _first_ try. _I wasn't even __**trying!**_"

"Being an astronaut must be exhausting!" the reporter starts, "Where do you _get _all that energy?"

"Why, Poop Cola, of course!" Iggins shouts, pulling out a can of the delicious soft drink.

"Callused Thumbs magazine has called you the _Greatest Gamer Alive_," the reporter continues, "How does that make you feel?"

"Of _course_ I'm the _Greatest_! _Gamer_! _**Alive**_!" Iggins shouts as he yanks the microphone away, a wide tooth-bearing smile on his face, "No better gamer than _me_! Nope! Nosiree! Certainly not any icky _girls_! Take _that, Gaaazzz_!"

"You heard it here, folks!" the reporter announces after pulling a new microphone from inside his blazer, "The greatest gamer alive; now the greatest astronaut alive!"

_IGGINS! A voice for a new generation! Paid for by Poop Cola._

The projector screen retracts into its enclave in the ceiling, the half broken lights sparking and flashing as they illuminate the cafeteria. Here is a sight that would make any eco-fascist pop their veins in seething rage. Years upon years of budget cuts, declined grants, and apathetic faculty has forced this school to drop sanitation from its agenda. The filth and grime of the years of neglect has accumulated in every corner and the smell alone could kill. Only through raising the kids in such a filthy setting can they become immune to the overpowering toxins that suffocate them on a daily basis. One grey haired teacher in a long black dress is at the front near some new vending machines.

"To celebrate our latest corporate shill," the teacher known as Ms. Bitters starts in a cynical tone, "The school is providing new vending machines. Feel free to buy some tooth rotting sugar drink to support our woefully underfunded and useless space program. You may resume stuffing your mouths with government supplied slop."

Of course, all the kids are pretty nonchalant about this turn of events. After all, a green skinned kid constantly insulting humanity and plotting their demise doesn't come across as even the slightest bit weird. What's a ten year old astronaut to them? Still, there is one vaguely gothic looking girl in this crowd that the message reached. In fact, she seems downright enraged, one hand clenched in a fist and the other gripping an apple.

"Gaz, are you okay?" asks a big headed boy in a miniature trenchcoat sitting next to her.

"GrrrrrrRAAAAGH!" Gaz shouts, the apple imploding in her grip and spraying the juice like yellow geysers.

"I asked you a month ago if you wanted to be an astronaut," the boy says. Good old big headed Dib. The only one that recognizes the green skinned kid for the evil alien invader he is, yet he can't seem to figure out what bothers his sister so much about this video.

"It's not that, dear brother," Gaz says in a low tone, "That _slimy_ _**puke**_ insulted me on national TV. How _dare_ he?"

"It's not that big a deal," Dib says, "You already hate everybody."

"Oh, it is a big deal," Gaz mutters, shoving a fist into an open hand, "You have no idea. Know this, Iggins. I will find you and you will pay. Oh, yes, will you _pay_."

At least it's not all doom and gloom in this cafeteria. Across the room sits a green skinned boy with an Elvis hairdo and a bulbous backpack. For all his differences from the rest of the children, he seems quite normal. Nope, nothing suspicious here. Something about the video seemed to strike a chord with him.

"So..." Zim pontificates, "Video games train the best pilots, huh? Those filthy humans might be onto something. I could use a pilot for my new MegaSquasher, but _who_? Which _disgusting_ _**pig**_ human is worthy of the finest Irken technology?"

Zim looks around the packed room, scoping out potentials for his dastardly ploy. Indeed, what is better than humanity wiped out by one of its own? Yet, all these humans seem too useless and stupid to even look at such magnificent technology. Just look at them. That one's eyes are lopsided, that one's mouth is always open, that one is covered in GERMS! It's not until Zim notices the purple haired girl with a mean grimace on her face mashing the buttons of her Game Slave 2 at hyper speed that he finds his match.

"Ah, _yes!_" Zim starts, "The fellow spawnling of that _abominable_ Dib! Oh, such sweet irony! She will make the _perfect_ pilot! Soon, all will grovel at the feet of _**ZIM!**_"

With that, Zim leaps over the table and lands in front of a passing kid on his way back from the line. Much to the human's surprise, Zim slams the tray out of his hands and pokes his head really hard while staring right into his eyes from inches away.

"You! _Grovel! Grovel at the feet of __**ZIM!**_**"**

After a long day at Skool, it's nice to just go back home and relax in front of the TV. Nothing quite like the joys of Mysterious Mysteries of Strange Mystery and all its mysterious mystery. Dib and Gaz walk through the door of their heavily fortified house, passing through the front hall by a man in a high collar lab coat. None other than Professor Membrane, man of SCIENCE!

"Hello, children!" Professor Membrane starts in a magnanimous tone, "How was your education today?"

"Dad, I want to be an astronaut," Gaz casually blurts out, walking up in front of him.

"Oh, no," Professor Membrane says, ruffling Gaz's hair in a friendly manner, "I won't have _my_ children wasting their time on the space program!"

"But dad-" Gaz starts.

"Uh, uh," Membrane interrupts, "The space program is for pie in the eye dreamers that don't realize there's nothing but _stars_ and _gas giants_ out there. You need to do _real_ science, with _real_ benefits to mankind! Why, when I was your age, I invented the automatic toilet paper wiper! I'd never have done _that_ if I wanted to be an astronaut!"

"Grr..." Gaz grumbles, wandering back towards the couch. She'll just have to think of a new plan that doesn't involve getting a job at the facility. As much as she'd like to get her revenge, she'll have to settle on playing some video games and watching TV for the time being.

"You know-" Dib says, sitting down on the couch.

"Can it," Gaz mumbles, continuing her game. Pretending that each of the Vampire Piggies are Iggins makes this game so much easier. It's not even that far off a family resemblance.

"Iggins! A voice for a neeeeeeooooooowwwwwwwzzzzzzz ..." the television warbles, its screen dissolving into static. Within a couple seconds, the static lightens up to reveal a dark purple, cramped metallic room with monitors hanging all over. Zim is out of disguise working at some console across the room while a blue eyed metallic robot stares right into the camera.

"Hey, look, master!" the robot says, smiling widely, "We're on TV!"

"What?!" Zim shouts, turning to face the robot.

"La di da di da," the robot sings, dancing on his tippy toes.

"GIR, you _**fool**_, _what are you doing_?!" Zim shouts, walking over to the prancing robot.

"I'm doing the macarena!" GIR announces, continuing his prancing. Zim grabs the robot by his torso and throws him out of the frame with a resultant crash.

"I love this show," GIR says in a sing song tone as Zim picks up a remote control and presses a button. The screen goes back to static, leaving Dib baffled.

"What could _Zim_ be up to now?" Dib asks rhetorically, staring at the TV. It might be something involving television, but there's always the chance GIR was just messing around. Still, what was in the background there? Suddenly, the screen changes to what appears to be a video game advertisement. A dark purple box machine about the size of a cigarette pack sits on a pedestal, the camera rotating around.

"Do _you_ like video games, _putrid __**Earthling**__ female_?!" asks Zim's voice run through a bad synthesizer to deepen its pitch, "Then _get ready_ for the **Game Slave 3000 Limited Edition of **_**Doom**_! No more fussing around with _feeble_ Alkaline batteries for it comes with an advanced Wonderflonium power cell good until the end of your _pathetic_ existence! Able to synchronize with even the most _primitive_ human TV, its advanced 3D graphics and roaring sound system will make you _scream for your progenitor! __**But that's not all!**_"

The screen changes to a scene of mass chaos. People are fleeing with arms flailing from a giant purple robot as it rips apart buildings and stomps on cars. In every corner is a flame waiting to ignite and a hydrant erupting into a geyser. Police fire their pathetic guns at the dread machine, each round bouncing off as harmlessly as flies into a windshield. Nothing can stop its raw power!

"The **Game Slave 3000 Limited Edition of **_**Doom**_ is the only way _you_ can play the ground-breaking game of the century: _Crush the Puny Earthlings_! That's right, _you_ control the MegaSquasher as you _crush _and _destroy _everything in your path! With your impenetrable Vortion armor, not even the most powerful _human_ weapon could ever hope to stop your unending _rampage_! Destroy enough buildings, rack up enough points, and soon, **all will **_**tremble**_** beneath your **_**mighty **_**iron **_**foot!**_ Wuahahahahahaha! _Ahahahahahahaha! __**AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHA...**_ ahem... now-available-at-your-local-Video-Pit."

"Oh, _come on!_" Dib shouts at the screen as it abruptly flips back to an old cartoon, "He might have everyone else fooled, but for him to think he can pull the wool over _our_ eyes? He'd have to get up early to do _that_, right, Gaz?... Gaz?"

Dib looks to his side to find the seat next to him empty. Nothing there but a light oval imprint puffing back out. A quick glance around the room reveals the freshly ajar door. What is Gaz thinking? Rushing outside, Dib searches around and quickly finds Gaz walking towards the city. Unsure of what she's planning, he dashes in front of her.

"Gaz, you aren't seri-" Dib starts, interrupted by Gaz's effortless backhand. The force of the blow launches him a couple meters to the side, the nearby bushes cushioning the impact.

"Out of my way, _Dib!_" Gaz says with a mean scowl. With an annoyed grunt, she continues towards the city. Dib can't believe that she would take such obvious bait when she knows full well that Zim is an evil alien invader, but it's probably worthwhile to see what she's up to. She's not even playing her game, so it's obviously something serious. After a block of none too subtle tailing, Gaz turns around with a downright nasty expression on her face and takes a threatening step towards Dib.

"Okay, okay," Dib concedes, turning around and running away as fast as he can. He'll just have to trust that she's not even _thinking_ of falling for Zim's evil plot. Maybe he can stop him before he even leaves the house? It's not like it takes a whole lot to stop him, anyway. Dib starts his trek towards that fateful house he spent many a night watching through high powered binoculars.

The local mall has always been kind of a weird place. With that insane Sergeant Slab Rankle managing the security, the whole structure seems more suited towards the whim of this madman. All the trees, lamp posts, and even inexplicable mail boxes are just a bit larger than necessary and hollow to the touch. Everything seems designed to create as much opportunity for rule breakage and resulting intervention as possible. The food court entrance is through one of movie theater screens, the parking garage access inside a night club, and the Video Pit on the corner of the second floor past the Religious Zealot Workshop.

Zim still smarts from the blow of a very heavy book as he stands in the store, watching through the window for his target. Even now, Gaz is walking through the mall towards the escalator near the bicycle testing range, dodging a kid as he crashes over the guard rail. Zim can almost grasp world domination within his reach.

"Yes, _yes,_" Zim says triumphantly, tapping on the glass with his claw-like digits, "Come to _**ZIM!**_"

"Auumgh, sir-" says the wage slave behind Zim in a thick East European accent.

"_**SILENCE!**_" Zim shouts, spinning around and pointing a remote at the employee as he mashes a button. The man suddenly drops to the ground as his eyes roll upwards, foam gushes out of his mouth, and his whole body starts spasming violently. As the wage slave continues his seizure, Zim walks up and stands over the squirming mass of flesh.

"Now," Zim starts as he furrows his brow, pressing a button that stops the man's suffering, "When that _disgusting_ girl walks in and asks for the **Game Slave 3000 Limited Edition of **_**Doom**_, you're going to say that you're sold out and the last one went to me. _Got it?!_"

"Yes, sir," the man says weakly, wiping the foam away and starting to get up.

"Here's a note card to help your _feeble_ _human brain_," Zim says, flicking the card into the man's eye.

"Ahh! _Mein eye!_" the man shouts, grasping his poked eye with both hands. Zim giggles as he casually walks to the side, pulling a box from the shelf and taking a position just out of sight from the door. Right on cue, Gaz walks in and heads straight to the wage slave.

"I need the **Game Slave 3000 Limited Edition**..." Gaz starts, hesitating and then rolling her eyes, "**...of **_**Doom**_."

"Aumm..." the clerk says, rubbing his wounded eye, "What is tha-" Zim aims the remote at the clerk's head with a fierce look in his eyes. The clerk practically craps his pants. "We have it."

"Good," Gaz says, "Give it to me."

"Aumm..." the man stutters, holding up the note card to his other eye, "We sold it to that green kid over there."

Gaz turns to face Zim, staring at him with a pensive look. It's quite a pleasure to see her falling so neatly into this grand plan. Soon, the world will tremble before them! Zim smiles ecstatically with all his sharp teeth showing.

"Hey, Zim," Gaz says, walking up to him.

"Oh, hey, Gaz," Zim says shyly, shoving the remote into a pocket and waving with his fingers. A couple awkward seconds go by.

"The game system," Gaz says in a flat tone.

"Oh, hey, what do you know," Zim says in a bouncy tone, "I just got one of these! So, you want to go to my place and play _Crush the Puny Earthlings_?"

"Sure, why not?" Gaz says in a nonchalant manner, shrugging her shoulders. Zim smiles even wider at this acceptance. Things are looking up now that he found his pilot.

"_All right!_" Zim says triumphantly, walking out of the store alongside Gaz, "So, are you ready to join the elite Irken invasion forces and uphold your duty as the pilot of the-"

"Yeah, sure," Gaz interrupts, giving an annoyed sigh, "LARPer."

Zim casually takes the remote control out of his pocket, aims behind his shoulder, and presses a button. The loud thump of a grown man hitting the floor proves his aim to be true. As Zim walks alongside his new accomplice, he smiles viciously at the upcoming destruction of the human race by one of its own.

Dib can't help but get this unsettling feeling that Gaz is going to do the wrong thing. He knows she's too smart to be fooled by Zim's childish tricks, but she has been kind of angry about that Iggins kid. She might try something stupid like actually going along with Zim's latest diabolical plan just to let some steam off. Still, the best course of action is to just go straight to the source. Luckily, the tacky garden gnomes in front of this unsightly purple house seem to be deactivated at the moment. Dib raises his hand to knock on the door when it suddenly opens to reveal GIR with some pig.

"See you later, Mr. Pig!" GIR says exuberantly as the porcine buddy starts waddling down the walkway towards a miniature motorcycle.

"Um... hey, GIR," Dib says, looking around uncomfortably.

"Hi, Dib!" GIR says, bouncing up and waving with his eyes closed and a beaming grin on his face, "Want me to install more spy cameras?"

"Maybe later," Dib says, "So, um... is Zim home?"

"No, he's luring your sister into his latest doomed plan at the mallllll," GIR says, his face contorting on the last syllable, "_**WANT SOME CREPES?!**_"

"...sure, why not?" Dib says, shrugging. Anything to get himself in the house.

"_**OKAY!**_" GIR shouts with joy, making a welcoming motion into the house. Well, whatever gets Dib closer to his target is fine by him. He walks inside along with the exuberant robot as they go past the colorblind living room. Outside of the couch being a tad closer to the TV than usual and the addition of a coffee table in between, things seem pretty normal. _Too _normal, in fact. The kitchen is just its usual self, albeit with the oven glowing as bright as a thousand suns. Dib sits down at the table as GIR walks over to the oven, pulling out a tray of crepes glowing white with intense heat.

"_**WHO WANTS CREPES?!**_" GIR shouts, holding up the blazing pastries.

"Er... no thanks," Dib says, holding both hands up as he starts to get off his chair. Just as he turns around, he finds himself face to face with the teal eyed robot holding the tray at an uncomfortable proximity.

"_**YOU WANT CREPES?!**_" GIR shouts again, shoving the tray under Dib's face. As the intense heat of the igneous crepes send Dib's sweat glands into overdrive, he pushes the table with his feet to distance himself from the sweltering tray. GIR must obviously not have any pain sensors whatsoever, what with the trickle of smoke coming from the slowly dissolving fingers. Dib can't imagine a lamer way to die than to suffer GIR's crepes of wrath, but it certainly looks like it's curtains for him. Suddenly, the very faint sound of conversation approaching the front door stops the robot in his tracks.

"_**MASTER'S HOME!**_" GIR shouts, accidentally tossing the tray upwards as he holds both arms up in glee. Dib falls back in the chair, landing on the linoleum floor with a thud. The blazing crepes come down like meteorites, embedding themselves into random surfaces and slowly melting downwards. GIR skips across towards the front door, grabbing one of the crepes and tossing it into his mouth. He doesn't even notice the smoke starting to pour out of him as he opens the door to reveal Zim and Gaz. Thinking quickly, Dib quickly rushes into a hiding spot behind the wall.

"...and never touch the green button," Zim finishes.

"_**GIRLY!**_" GIR shouts, putting his arms forward for an embrace as he starts towards the girl. Just as the diminutive robot gets up close and personal, Gaz grabs him by his arm and swings him across the room into a night stand. The broken lamp starts electrocuting the robot, his jaws chattering as the current washes through him. Zim violently reacts to the smell of something, looking around as he tries to find the source.

"_**GIR!**_" Zim shouts, "_I TOLD YOU NEVER TO USE THE OVEN WHILE I'M GONE!_"

"I'm sorrr-ry," GIR says in an apologetic tone with a sad look on his face, picking himself up from the mess. He goes off to sit in the corner as Zim and Gaz sit next to each other on the couch, the former pulling out a dark purple box and joystick controller from his package.

"_Now_, my new minion," Zim declares, completely missing Gaz's eye roll as he flips on the TV, "Before I can let your _filthy_ human hands control the latest in supreme Irken technology, you need to use the training mode."

"No, I don't," Gaz scoffs. Before Zim can get another word off, Dib walks over, grabs him by his collar, and drags him off the couch for a face to face conversation.

"_Unhand me, you large-headed __**oaf**__!_" Zim shouts, futilely trying to free himself of Dib's grasp.

"What do you think you're doing to my sister, _Zim_?!" Dib asks angrily. Zim calms down a little with those words.

"We're just playing video games," Zim states in a tone of fake innocence.

"No," Dib says with anger positively dripping from his voice, "You're up to something! What is it this time, _Zim_? Are you going to brainwash her? Mutate her? Take samples to find my family's weaknesses?"

"Not quite," Zim says, pulling out a notepad and pen from a pocket, "But those are _very good_ ideas."

"Dib, leave him alone," Gaz says nonchalantly without even glancing over, pressing a couple buttons on the joystick. Suddenly, the room starts to rumble as the sound of a nearby building collapsing echoes through the air. The light through the windows darken as something utterly _massive_ blocks out the sky. With Dib distracted, Zim breaks out of his hold and brushes himself off.

"All systems operational," says a voice from the television, "Ready to smash buildings and crush Earthlings at your command."

"Gaz, _don't!_" Dib says, running over to his sister, "He's making you control his-"

"Go away, _Dib_," Gaz grumbles, planting a foot on her brother's head and shoving him over the coffee table. Zim gives off a chortle.

"You see, _Dib_," Zim starts, "Your sister works for _me_ now. As an honorary member of the Irken armada, she will be spared when I _take over the world_ and _purge_ your _repulsive_ race from every crevice of it. Why, she'll be famous as the last of her kind! You should be thanking me for sparing her! Still, soon, you will _lament_ the day you crossed _**ZIM!**_"

"You intend to take over the world with just one giant robot?" Dib asks, turning to face his sister, "You can't seriously be helping him, Gaz."

"_**GIR!**_" Zim shouts, "_Remove the intruder!_"

"Yes, my master!" GIR responds in a deepened voice, his eyes changing to red as he gives a quick salute. Before Dib can even say anything, he finds himself scooped up by the robot and just as quickly rushed out the door and dropped on the front step. Dib starts to rise up, getting quite a startle as he looks in the menacing eyes of the robot. He's not quite sure what side of GIR this is, but it's certainly not the friendly one. After a few seconds of unbreaking gaze, the eyes shift back to teal and the expression lifts back up.

"Bye bye, now!" GIR says exuberantly, handing over a lunch box with the Irken insignia and slamming the door. Dib just stands there staring at the door, not even bothering to notice the crepe melt through the bottom of the lunch box. It's probably not a very smart idea to try and walk back inside. Even if he could convince Gaz to leave, Zim still has a giant robot rampaging through the city. Even now, it's heading towards the west side of the city, stomping on cars along the way. He never believed that his sister could ever consort with an evil alien like that, but she always was pretty vengeful.

Dib starts walking back to his house, tossing the lunch box aside. Maybe his dad has some new giant robot he can use or something. Failing that, he could always build a giant laser from spare parts in the lab and try to shoot it down. Dib gets quite a startle as something from a nearby alley grabs him, drags him inside, and slams him against the wall.

"AHHH-" Dib starts to scream, muffled as a hand slams over his mouth.

"Shut up, _Dib_," a familiar female voice hisses. Dib stares at the pale blue haired girl holding him up, her purple eyes piercing through him. After Dib calms down a little, she takes her hand off his mouth.

"...Tak?" Dib asks in surprise.

"Yes, _Dib_," Tak says defiantly.

"But you should be-"

"Dead?!" Tak finishes, staring deep in his eyes, "Oh, no. I am _so_ far from dead."

"But your ship crashed in my lawn," Dib starts, "You weren't anywhere near it."

"Yeah, well, I'm fine," Tak continues, "You want to stop Zim's latest plot, right? Be the big hero, lauded by millions as the savior of the human race?"

"I guess..." Dib says.

"I'll let you pilot my Omega Annihilator," Tak offers, "You _stole_ and _corrupted_ my VOOT, so I had to install _deplorable_ Earthen controls. Even a native like _you _should be able to figure it out and crush his MegaSquasher with pitiful ease."

"Er..." Dib says, "Why should I help you? You tried to destroy Earth."

"I don't care about your _pathetic_ planet any more," Tak spits out, her face contorting with rage, "I want to squeeze every last vestige of _joy_ out of Zim's life. I want him effortlessly defeated at every turn by his arch-nemesis. I want him to realize that he's so _pathetic_, an eleven year old human _child_ can and will stop everything he has in mind. I will not be happy until he is broken down into a shell of his former self, forced to realize that his whole life is a _joke_. Now, _are you with me?!_"

"I gues-" Dib says.

"Good, let's get started," Tak says, dragging Dib behind as she makes her way towards an open field.

Back at Zim's house, things have calmed down a bit. The crepes have cooled down and GIR seems to be content in just watching his new favorite TV show. Gaz has really taken to piloting the MegaSquasher, effortlessly crushing cars and toppling lamp posts with punitive ease. Even the police are fleeing in terror. Still, Zim doesn't seem quite satisfied with her performance.

"Why aren't you _crushing_ the _Earthlings?!_" Zim asks, "You get more points that way."

"Don't feel like it," Gaz responds, continuing her practiced button mashing. Before Zim can complain, some large thing shows up on the radar heading straight for the MegaSquasher. Gaz, being the skilled gamer she is, back flips over the new opponent and lands with catlike grace. A giant dark blue robot with massive gatling guns and missile arrays skids right past, crashing into a nearby building. As Gaz stares at this incompetent new opponent, a transmission comes through in the corner of her screen. None other than Dib is sitting in the car-like control seat, uncomfortably messing with the controls.

"Gaz, you have to stop!" Dib shouts desperately, "Zim's just using you to pilot his robot!"

"I _know_, Dib," Gaz mutters directly and quietly. Before Gaz can say anything else, Zim shoves in front of her and gets real close to the built in camera.

"That's _Irken_ technology!" Zim shouts, "Where do you keep _getting_ this stuff?"

"Oh, I'm better connected that you _think, Zim_," Dib says, frowning at the green skinned alien with defiance. Just before Zim can get another word off, Gaz casually shoves him aside and mashes a button to end the transmission. With diplomacy apparently out the window, Dib fiddles with the controls some more to get himself upright and facing the MegaSquasher. He can't help but feel a sense of foreboding from this encounter. He doesn't play near as many video games and he certainly doesn't have any experience piloting this mech, but it's not like he has any other option. He can't just let Zim get away with destroying the city using his own sister.

Just as Gaz makes her first move, Dib mashes a button on the control panel. Both arms of the Omega Annihilator extend forward, firing thousands of tracer bullets a second. Gaz effortlessly dodges to the side, the bullets searing through the nearby buildings and reducing them to rubble. Thinking quickly, Dib skates backwards and locks on for a missile barrage as Gaz lands across on a nearby park. Dib fires dozens upon dozens of missiles at Gaz, each and every one deflected by an energy shield summoned forth by the MegaSquasher as it crosses its arms over its head. With the city erupting into an inferno all around from the deflected barrage, Dib presses a few buttons on his console and brings Tak up on his display.

"Um, Tak..." Dib starts, "Are there any weapons that _don't_ destroy several city blocks?"

"No," Tak says in a matter of fact tone, "Eyes **FORWARD**, you _**DOLT!**_"

Dib's screen changes back to normal, the MegaSquasher nowhere in sight. He doesn't know how a giant robot can vanish like that, but the place is kind of like the surface of the sun. Maybe it's been reduced to one of those burning piles somehow? With a sudden clang, Dib's question is answered as something grabs the Omega Annihilator from behind. Dib turns, flails, and stomps to try and break the headlock, but the MegaSquasher just doesn't want to let go. After several seconds of futile struggle, a steady, loud metallic crunch starts ringing throughout the machine. Loud klaxons sound off as all the lights turn to a flashing red.

"Warning, warning: hull breach detected," says a calm computerized voice. A glance to the structural readout reveals the right missile array completely torn off, the left gradually coming apart as well. Before Dib can try anything, his opponent effortlessly flips over him and drop kicks him to the ground. The MegaSquasher lingers in the air with the power of its jump jets, assuming an elbow drop position as it falls with all forty thousand tons of its weight focused through the Omega Annihilator's chest. As Dib's head crashes into the control panel, he weakly reaches for the communications button.

"Gaz, you have to stop!" Dib cries out.

"_**WUOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**_" Zim cackles through the communication system. Dib tries to listen to what Gaz has to say, but that awful alien laugh completely drowns her out. With the MegaSquasher looming over him, he sees an opportunity to unload into the robot with both gatling guns. Gaz effortlessly grabs both arms as they extend forward and tears them out of their sockets, starting a maniacal bashing like two giant clubs on a drum. Dib feels himself jolted with every blow, each hit further cracking the screens and sending sparks out of the controls. Suddenly, airbags deploy, mashing Dib back into his seat. The MegaSquasher's berserk blows come to an end, casually tossing the arms to the side.

"Hello, this is OnStar Accident Assistance calling," a female voice says through the communication system as the Dib feels his craft start to rise, "It seems you're about to be thrown into a life threatening situation. Do you require assistance?"

"_**YES!**_" Dib shouts with desperation, the craft now spinning in circles. Almost immediately upon shouting out, energy washes over Dib and deconstructs him into constituent particles for reassembly somewhere else. And just in time, for the Omega Annihilator goes crashing through several skyscrapers before settling inside the city cesspool. With a bright flash and a ground shattering kaboom, the machine detonates with the power of a thousand Chernobyls.

"_All right!_" yells the twitchy boy sitting in the pilot's chair, "I got my automatic toothbrush, my toothpaste, my floss, my soap, my towel, my favorite shirts, an extra pair of underpants, my suit case, my duct tape, my army men, my action figures, my periscope, my hiking boots, my compass, my canteen, my piton hammer, my portable disc player, my certificate as the _Greatest Gamer Ever_, my super toast, my ray gun, my Prozac, my medication, my ***TK***... my toothbrush, my automatic toilet paper wiper, my Game Slave 2 - both Japanese _and_ American, every Vampire Piggy Hunter game ever, a thousand batteries, and my _car charger!_ _**I'M REEEAADDYYYY!**_"

"This is control," says a voice over the radio, "You are clear for launch in T-minus three minutes. All ground crews, prepare to stand by."

"_**YEAH!**_" Iggins shouts, pressing buttons and pulling levers at a frenzied pace. Ever since NASAPLACE had to undergo budget cuts, searching for already trained personnel that would work exclusively for the pride and glory of this great country has proven to be a boon. After all, Iggins is better than any 80,000 dollar a year pilot and all the organization had to do was roll up the sleeves and sew a Poop Cola logo on one of their suits. Now, he just has to prove himself worthy of all the press and his big name sponsorship.

"We have Callused Thumbs on the line asking for a last minute statement," says the voice on the other end, "How does it feel to be in the pilot seat _right now?!_"

"Well, _ground control_," Iggins says, "It feels _just_ like that time I **destroyed** the Tomb of the _Immortal _Space..."

Iggins loses his train of thought as a giant object shows up on the radar heading straight for him. Heavy footstomps of doom resonate through the hull, each one growing louder than the last. A quick flip of the monitors reveals a giant robot heading towards the ship, a couple patches of flame harmlessly covering its shell. A whole squadron of helicopters and harrier jets are unloading bullets and missiles into it by the thousand, each one deflecting off like water from a duck's back. It isn't even bothering to acknowledge their existence.

"I said you would _pay_, Iggins!" shouts a familiar feminine voice through a mega speaker. Iggins goes white with fear as that voice haunts him back to a fateful day by the Battery Tower.

"_**NOOOOOOO!**_" Iggins shouts, frantically mashing buttons on the console. The screen changes to a flight HUD, all systems functional and prepared for take off.

"Omega Gamer, you are not clear for launch," says the voice in futility as Iggins punches the throttle right through the maximum gate. With a deafening sonic boom, Iggins feels himself slammed back into his seat by the force of the thrusters.

"_Oh, no, you don't!_" yells the amplified voice of Gaz, the MegaSquasher leaping up and grabbing onto the shuttle with both arms. Loud klaxons sound as the slow crunch of metal rings through the craft, the momentum now going back towards the ground.

"Warning, warning: proximity alert," says a computerized female voice through the console as the shock of 46,000 combined tons smash into the ground. Iggins feels himself start to slide forward into his seat belts as the craft tilts, the windows coming face to face with the unfeeling head of the MegaSquasher.

"I _told _you I would _destroy _you if you ever messed with me again," Gaz announces vindictively.

"I'm sorry, I swear!" Iggins shouts pitifully, pressing buttons at random in the hope of finding one that can free him.

"Oh, no," Gaz says, "It's _far _too late for that."

Iggins starts panicking and spasming wildly as Gaz releases one hand from the shuttle and winds the other back for a pitch. Aiming for the nearby mountains, Gaz throws the shuttle with a grace seen only in the likes of famous quarterback Dan Marino.

"_**BWARAHAEAEABLOUAPAOIRBRLAV...**_" babbles Iggins at a rate of about a syllable a nanosecond as the combined speed of both the MegaSquasher's throw along with the still firing take-off jets embeds him in his seat. At this speed, it doesn't even take a second before the shuttle crashes head first into the mountain.

Gaz sits at the controls, satisfied now that she has her revenge. She certainly showed that uppity spaz what for. In fact, she went far and above her expectations. She was just going to smash some stuff and scrape out 'take that, Iggins' in the resulting wasteland, but to stumble across the boy himself while he's going on a training mission is the sort of fortuitous good luck she deserves. Gaz casually turns off her beeping wrist communicator showing a call from OnStar as she looks around, gauging the situation in Zim's living room.

"Yes, _YES!_" Zim says as he grins maniacally and holds up both fists, "_Destroy_ the _puny_ Earthlings' space program! Without it, they can do nothing but _watch_ as the Armada _grinds_ them into a thick... Earthy... juice thing!"

"This game is _stupid_," Gaz says, tapping in a complex key code. Immediately, the screen goes red as the MegaSquasher starts powering down.

"Self destruct mechanism activated," says the computerized voice as a big block of text showing a countdown begins in the center.

"You insolent _FOOL!_" Zim shouts as Gaz casually slides off the couch and starts towards the door.

"Call me when you get a game that doesn't suck," Gaz says, heading towards the door.

"You _dare _turn your back on your commanding officer?!" Zim shouts, leaping in front of Gaz, "This is _mutiny_! **MUTIN-**"

Gaz backhands Zim across his ugly face, launching him clean across the room and embedding him into the wall.

"**ARGH! MY **_**SPINE!**_" Zim shouts, twitching and spasming in his own personal crater. Gaz ignores him as she pushes the door open and starts out onto the front step.

"Come back soon!" GIR yells, shoving a lunch box in her hand and slamming the door.

Gaz stands there, staring at the bright flames and explosions happening off in the distance. The sound of sirens and screams fill the air, cars crashing and people panicking even at this outskirt of the mayhem. Suddenly, a bright flash followed by an eerie silence comes from the general direction of NASAPLACE, drenching the whole place in white. As the pallid glare comes to an end, a dark purple mushroom cloud emerges like a smokestack in the sky. Gaz gives the tiniest of smirks before shrugging her shoulders, tossing away the lunch box and playing her Game Slave 2 as she walks back home. Another day well spent.


End file.
